Tuesday, 30 September 2014

Last week, in a tiny subterranean bar, I
attended my third David Thomas Broughton
concert in five years. It was by turns funny,
scary, touching, confrontational and
beautiful, but above all it was, as always, a
unique experience. Part singer-songwriter,
part performance artist, Broughton treats his
songs as raw material, to be dissected and
reassembled at will, looping his voice, his
guitar and various electronic gizmos, while
incorporating any inanimate objects that come
to hand. He wanders off mic and off stage,
singing on the move, in the middle of the
audience, even from half way up the staircase
leading out of the venue.

Broughton's sonorous baritone (think a 21st
Century Jake Thackray) is currently
complemented by The Juice Vocal Ensemble, with
whom he has recorded one of 2014's finest
albums, 'Sliding The Same Way'. Over Juice's
often unsettling, aural backdrop, Broughton's
clipped Northern diction tackles dark themes
on the LP, sometimes using very blunt
language. 'I will glass every one of you
pricks in this bar', isn't a line you'll find
anywhere in the Folk tradition and was
delivered with such mesmeric conviction
during last week's concert, that I'm sure I
wasn't alone in shifting uncomfortably in my
seat. An essential album and an essential
live performer.

Tuesday, 23 September 2014

In June 1981, I caught the final show of
Bruce Springsteen's six night residency at
Wembley Arena, it was my first Springsteen
concert and much of the evening is still
vivid in my memory. The tiny drum kit sitting
in the middle of that vast stage, little more
than a snare, floor tom, bass drum and a
couple of cymbals. The opening song, 'Born to
Run'....'Born to Run'! He started with 'Born
to Run'! The joyous audience participation
during 'Hungry Heart' and the tears during a
whisper-to-a-scream-to-a-whisper 'Point
Blank'. Seven covers (if you count the
Detroit Medley as just one), a couple of
songs he wrote but gave away and nothing from
'Greetings...' or 'The Wild, The
Innocent...'. 31 songs in total, again
counting the Detroit Medley as one.

What's left of my ticket after I left it in my pocket and it was savaged by the twin-tub.

Elvis Presley's influence on proceedings was
particularly noticeable that evening.
Springsteen offered a sombre early reading of
his own 'Johnny Bye-Bye', which would remain
officially unreleased until 1985 and deals,
in part, with the death of Presley. In
addition, two of the aforementioned covers
were associated with Elvis. 'Can't Help
Falling in Love' came towards the end of the
final encore, but a largely re-written
'Follow That Dream' appeared early in the
set. Bruce has sporadically revisited the
song in subsequent years and here's a one-off
performance from a show in Switzerland,
during 1988's Tunnel of Love Express Tour.

Saturday, 20 September 2014

I left school with precious little to show by
way of qualifications, but, thanks to the
deft intervention of a teacher who saw some
potential in me, I managed to land a job in a
large insurance office. When I arrived for my
first day at work, I was socially out of my
depth and felt very much like a boy in a
grown-up world - even the junior clerks of a
similar age to me appeared to have somehow
achieved a level of worldly experience,
gained by a few months spent in an adult
working environment.

Fortunately for me, my desk was positioned
between those of Frank and David. Frank and
David, much like the other experienced staff
in my section, seemed very old to me at the
time. In reality they were only in their early 40's.
They'd both been with the company for 10
years at that point and had no doubt already
realised that, in all probability, they would
see out their working lives behind those very
desks. It was a job for life, if you kept
your nose clean. They, unlike some of our
more earnest colleagues, were also wise enough
to realise that the job. and indeed life,
were not things to be taken too seriously,
all of the time. They helped me to do my work
well, but they also encouraged me laugh,
treating me as an equal, rather than a new
kid on the block.

Inevitably, when you're in a close-knit
working environment, a little micro-language
develops, full of tics, catchphrases and
regularly-used terms. Occasionally after
work, I'd catch the same bus home as David, sometimes with our favourite conductor on
board, who would, more often than not, go into hyper-mode as the evening rush hour
progressed, chanting 'Cheers, cheers,
ta,ta,ta, thank you, cheers, cheers, ta...'
at ever increasing speeds as he charged up
and down the packed bus collecting fares.
David could gently mimic the guy to
perfection, often reducing me to tears at my
desk after I'd passed him a file or folder
he'd requested. 'Cheers, cheers, ta,ta,ta,
thank you, cheers, cheers, ta...', he'd
jabber ad infinitum, as I struggled for
breath.

Frank was a mischievous sod too, forever the
joker, frequently causing gales of laughter
to spread among the desks, only becoming
serious when his wife, who worked in the same
building, descended the escalator from the
floor above. As she came into view, his eyes
lit up and he'd smile the smile of a man who
was utterly content with his lot and deeply
in love.

I don't know the origin of Frank's
most used phrase, it was already well
established by the time I appeared on the
scene. Whenever things became overly
stressful or too full-on at work, Frank
would grin broadly, stretch out his arms and
say 'Easy, easy', as a kind of calming
gesture. The words quickly entered my lexicon
and I still find myself reassuring myself
with them to this day.

I worked at the office for less than two
years, but, without wishing to descend into
cliché, I went in a shy, socially inept boy and
left as a young man with enough self-confidence to work
in a customer facing environment for the next
30 years. I'm sure I owe much of this confidence to
Frank and David's early encouragement.

A few nights ago, I caught up with
Frank again. He beamed that familiar smile as
we talked and reminisced. When the time came
to leave, I reflected on my first steps into
the 'grown-up' world at the insurance office
all those years ago and thanked him for the
acceptance and friendship he and David had
shown, that had meant so much to me.
At this point, I confess I became slightly
emotional and, spontaneously, I threw an arm
around his shoulder and patted him warmly on
the back. 'Easy, easy', he laughed.

David died in 2010, ravaged in his final
years by escalating multiple sclerosis. Frank
passed away a couple of years earlier, shortly after losing his beloved wife. Frank's visit
the other night, came in the form of a
particularly vivid dream. Our brief period of working together in the office was over 35 years ago, but rarely does a
day goes by that I don't think of one or both
of them.

-------------------------------------------------------

Frank wasn't particularly into music, but
David was and we would talk about it for
hours, when we probably should've been
working. He didn't 'get' much of what I was
listening to, but was always interested to
hear about the records I'd bought or gigs I'd
been to. David's era was a little earlier and
this was one of his favourites.

Wednesday, 17 September 2014

There are many good things about the easy
access to music that we enjoy today. I want
it. I got it. Quick as that. I can order a
physical album without leaving my keypad, I
can stream entire catalogues in any number of
ways, or I can purchase and download
individual tunes or complete recorded works
in seconds. The problem with the latter comes
when a stray tune hits the hard drive, is
played and enjoyed for a while, before being
lost in an anonymous folder on my computer.
Which happens a lot.

In this occasional
series I'll be scouring my D and G drives,
unearthing half-forgotten gems along the way.

Clear Spot were a short-lived trio comprising
drummer Colm Ó Cíosóig from My Bloody
Valentine, guitarist Simon Johns of Stereolab
and future Heliocentrics member, Mike
Burnham, on keyboards. Their recorded output
comprises just one 7" single, 'Moonman Bop',
issued in 1998 on Stereolab's Duophonic
label. My original copy, possibly on blue
vinyl, is buried deep in a box somewhere in
this house, but luckily I had the good sense
to download an MP3 rip of this instrumental nugget, when it turned
up on a blog a few years ago.

Tuesday, 16 September 2014

37 years? Can it really be 37 years? Here's one from (gasp) 43 years ago, featuring Marc, Micky and Steve, with a little help from Babs, Flick, Dee Dee etc, who kind of look as if they're dancing to a different song.

Sunday, 14 September 2014

Late last Wednesday, I was very pleased to learn that
Gogo Penguin's second LP, 'V2.0', had been
shortlisted for the Mercury Music Prize, a
thoroughly deserved nod. The evening after
the night before, Gogo Penguin played in
Norwich, opening for local outfit Mammal Hands,
who were launching their own debut LP
'Animalia'. Both bands played out of their
skins. It was a night that none in
attendance, on stage or in the packed
audience, will forget in a hurry.

I featured Gogo Penguin a few months ago
(here) and their music has remained on
regular rotation round these parts ever
since, but was unprepared for the sheer force
of their live show. They groove, they swing
and, yes, they even rock, Mick Blacka
throwing occasional Keef-like shapes with his
double bass. The band stretch and push the
recorded versions of their repertoire into
seemingly uncharted areas before bringing
it all back home and finishing each tune on a
dime, without any noticeable nods or winks
between the three of them. The performance of
'One Percent' was worth the price of
admission alone. Totally thrilling stuff. This isn't too shabby either.

Mammal Hands are another three piece, who,
like Gogo Penguin, are blessed with an
extraordinary keyboard player and drummer,
unusually though, they have no bassist. The
line-up is completed by Jordan Smart on
saxophone who was also group announcer for
the night (apparently they take it in turns).
Smart is very quietly spoken and, in tunes
like 'Mansions of Millions of Years',
demonstrates similarly delicate phrasing on
the soprano sax. His range is huge though.
During an extended tenor sax workout in an
untitled new piece later in the evening, he
tore the place apart, prompting spontaneous
outbursts of applause from the audience
everytime he took it up another notch. This
was my first encounter with Mammal Hands, but
I bought the album after the show and I'll
certainly be back for more. Here's a version of 'Kandaiki, recorded last year.

Mammal Hands recorded 'Animalia' back in
December 2013 and are clearly already
looking towards album number two, in much the
same way as Gogo Penguin are pushing forward
to album three. It was a memorable night and I'm excited to hear what comes next from
these terrific bands.

Monday, 8 September 2014

Two gentlemen on a small boat out at sea. Chatting, reminiscing on
old times. Perhaps they served together in
the Second World War. So what year would that
make this photo? Late 1960s? Early 1970s?
What if I were to tell you that these men, if
they are indeed the age they appear, were
probably too old to have served in the First
World War and that the start of World War Two
was still 13 months in the future? The photo
is scanned from a glass slide dated August
1938. A timeless image isn't it? I picked up
around 150 glass slides at a car-boot sale
last week, all housed in 4 long wooden boxes.
I've only gone through a quarter of them so
far, but the quality of the best is
outstanding. More to come, I'm sure.

Gordon Anderson (brother of Kenny, a.k.a.
King Creosote) was a founding member of The
Beta Band, writing the magnificent 'Dry the Rain' from their debut EP, among others. Anderson left The
Beta Band in 1997 after a period of ill
health, going on to produce a series of
wonderfully adventurous releases under the
Lone Pigeon moniker. Following The Beta
Band's demise in 2004, Anderson reunited with
two former members, John Maclean and Robin
Jones, to become The Aliens, who issued
two fine albums, before dropping off the map
in 2009. 'Boats', originally a stripped down, solo Lone Pigeon tune, was re-recorded by The
Aliens to glorious effect and issued on LP
number two, 'Luna'.

Saturday, 6 September 2014

I haven't eaten meat for nearly 25 years,
but I refuse to become one of those irritating, 'holier than thou', vegetarians who make
exaggerated gagging noises if someone dares
to eat a ham sandwich within a hundred yard
radius of them. Indeed, personally, I'm far
more repulsed by the thought of a plate of
mushrooms landing on an adjacent restaurant
table, than a big juicy steak. There is,
however, one regular misconception about vegetarianism that rarely fails to wind me up. The fish thing.

Our local pub re-opened late last year. It
was purchased by a resident of the village
who has put a great deal of time, effort and
money into the establishment. The decor is
clean, the staff pleasant, the beer well kept
and I'm happy to report that business appears
to be booming in the old place.
As I perused lunch menu on my first visit to
the newly re-opened hostelry, it appeared that
veggie lasagne was my only option. Not a
problem, but I thought I'd double check with
a member of staff. 'Is there just the one
vegetarian option on the menu today?' I
asked. 'Oh no sir, we have fish and chips or
salmon as well' came the very polite reply.
'But I'm a vegetarian' I said. 'Oh, but some
vegetarians eat fish' she said. I sighed
inwardly. A very deep sigh. I thanked her and
left it at that.

The veggie option

About a month later, I dropped into the pub
again, intending to grab some lunch. The
staff on duty on this visit were different,
though just as polite and helpful, but the
conversation was virtually identical. 'Some
vegetarians eat fish' said the lady. 'They're
not vegetarians then,' I replied with a
smile. 'Oh yes,' she continued, 'I've got a
friend who's a vegetarian and she eats
fish...' I sighed inwardly. A very deep sigh.
I thanked her and left it at that.

I'm reluctant to make a fuss. I worked in
catering for over 10 years and know what a
demanding job it is and just how demoralizing
a seemingly awkward customer can be. Also, I
don't want to be perceived as one of those
vegetarians. I did, however, feel that I
ought to give a little feedback, so I emailed
the Manager of the pub, congratulating him on
the staff, service and quality of the beer
and, rather than complaining, merely enquired
if there were any plans to expand their
selection of vegetarian offerings, explaining
that there was only one such item available
on each of my previous visits. A couple of
days later I received a very pleasant reply
from the manager thanking me for my comments
and pointing out that the pub also offers a
range of fish dishes that are suitable for
vegetarians! This, I have to say, floored me
and I immediately drafted a terse response,
explaining the definition of vegetarianism at
great length and how it differs from
pescetarianism. But, as I said, I hate to
make a fuss. So, after a few minutes, when I'd calmed down, I decided not to send the email.
Instead, I sighed inwardly. A very deep sigh and left it at that.

As if that wasn't bad enough...... A couple of weeks ago I paid a return visit
to our local Medical Centre, to get the
results of some recent tests. Previously, my
blood pressure was a shade high, but this
time it seemed normal. The nurse expressed some
concern, however, at my cholesterol levels.
My 'bad' cholesterol is a bit high apparently
and she urged me to cut down on red meat and
fatty foods. I explained that I've been a
vegetarian for 25 years and although I used
to consume mountains of cheese sandwiches and
veggie pasties, these days I virtually live
on salad and fruit, with any variance from
this diet (such as on chip night) being regarded
as a bit of a treat. My 'good' cholesterol,
however, appears to be a bit on the low side.
I asked the nurse what steps I could take to
improve the situation. 'Eat more fish' she
said. I reminded her that I've been a
vegetarian for 25 years. 'Oh,' she said,
'don't you eat fish? Some vegetarians do you know'. I
sighed inwardly. An extremely deep sigh. I
thanked her and left it at that.

Here's Dean Torrence (Dean from Jan and Dean)
trading as Laughing Gravy (vegetarian gravy, natch), with an
interpretation of 'Vegetables', released just
one month after The Beach Boys original, in
October 1967.

Tuesday, 2 September 2014

As I believe I've mentioned before, I possess
an inordinate number of left feet and am
consequently a confirmed non-dancer. Last
Tuesday evening, however, in a darkened room
full of strangers, I found myself
unconsciously cutting, what can only be
described as, a rug. It probably wasn't a
pretty sight, but blame it on Tinariwen.
Standing still just wasn't an option. (Read a great review of the concert here.)